Alice in Wonderland
by LupsandTnks
Summary: His eyes were red and he stared at me with hunger. I screamed as loud as I could, begging for someone to find me. To help me. 'It's only you and I now.' James whispered, licking his lips. I cringed as the pain began." Alice's story from child to Jasper.
1. Father's Special Daughter

**AN: Hey Guys. Here's a new story for you all. Don't worry, I shall not forget about What We Become. I'm one story short, and felt I needed to get this one out. I've been wanting to write a story from Alice's perspective for quite some time. I hope this story doesn't disappoint. Especially you Colin, because I know you like to tell me what you think of my stories. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, although you get mean sometimes. sniff **

**I don't know if I'll be blogging this story or not, so tell me if I should. If you are a newcomer, check out my blog. The link is on my profile. Enjoy this story. **

**If you think I should continue as she ages, tell me. Or if you think I should skip from childhood to asylum, let me know too.**

Chapter One -- Father's special daughter

The fields behind my house were yellowed from the winter that had just recently passed. The snow had seized to exist, but there was still a chill in the air that kept my arms glued against my chest. I could almost see the breath as it left my mouth, and my hands trembled, held against my lips. The old wooden gate that stood erect on the other side of the field suddenly opened. A man with a deep fur coat, and a hat covering his eyes stepped into the afternoon sun. The trees on the other side fell back into place from his disruption. I stomped my boots on the stairs of the veranda and stood up. My heart beat picked up as I waited for him to cross the yard. The man lifted his large hand and pulled his hat off, immediately crouching to eye level. I grinned from ear to ear and leapt into his awaiting arms. I was suddenly warm, and at that moment there was nothing in my heart I loved more than my father.

When I was a small child, my father used to tell me stories to make me sleep at night. I was one of those children that had a difficult time falling asleep. There was one story he made sure to tell me every night, and it was his pleasure to tell any guest in the house the tale as well.

"_My Mary was born the most special of all my children.For she was born with her eyes open. I remember whenthe midwife put her in my arms, pink and soft. And she smiled at me and within seconds grasped my finger. A smart one she was. And she didn't cry. Her sisters before her both cried their little hearts out, but not my Mary Alice."_

In my eyes, my father was my hero. He told me everything I needed to know. He taught me all that was expected of a child, and when it was my time to start school, he was reluctant to set me free into the real world. "A world full of dark, untrustworthy things," he would tell me. And on the day when my mother woke me up from my short sleep, an excited smile on her face as she dressed me in one of my best dresses, I couldn't help but feel as if everything was no longer going to be the same. My father wasn't there when I left that morning, he had been called in early to the newspaper where he worked. My sisters, Liza and Cynthia, were both older than I was. Liza, the eldest had a knack for taking it upon herself to remind us of that fact at any given moment. Cynthia was my safety, my shelter; she was the one with whom I would stay up with at night. I'd stumble into her bedroom when I was afraid, and she would pull back the covers, and we'd whisper until we fell asleep. Cynthia was a year older than I.

With a quick shuffle, my mother had my stomach full of toast and cheese, and my pockets full of seeds and a couple of hard candies for later. "Just in case" she whispered into my ear as she buttoned up my jacket. I smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

"'Bye Momma." I said. She passed me my new books and I turned around and took Cynthia's awaiting hand. She looked slightly sorry for me. She had suffered the same treatment the year before. Mine was extra special though, because I was the youngest. Momma couldn't walk with me to the school house, because she was much to weak to step into the autumn air. She had her new baby inside her to take care of. The one that would take my place. Liza took hold of my other hand and started to lead us out into the September wind. I was anxious to begin a new journey, and I was afraid that the school children wouldn't like me. Liza said that these were feelings that everyone went through, and I wasn't as special as I thought I was. I scrunched up my nose and said no more.

The walk was exactly three miles away. I counted in my head as we walked, but lost count after 9000. After we entered the town, which by that time was called a small-city by the townsfolk, we got onto a carriage that could hold about fifty students. It was mostly country children who took this carriage; they would climb on after walking the distance from their home to the edge of the city. From there it was a two mile ride, on very stiff benches, to the school. My first trip there was faster than any of the other ones I would take. I made sure I remembered every turn we made, every building and street sign. Just in case there came a time when I would have to walk these streets alone. The school was rather large, and stood between two tall buildings. There was a small yard in front, and from the angle the carriage was going, a nicely fenced field in behind. There was also a baseball diamond. As the carriage stopped, a motorcar rushed by from beside us. It stopped on the curve and three small children jumped down from the back. I watched with an air of fascination. Our family hadn't the money for a motor car. Even if we did, father said they were a waste of God's resources and were not meant to be invented. I had nothing to do but agree with him, I always agreed with him. The man in the drivers seat waved and then drove off in between the other carriages on the street. Liza jerked my arm and I looked up at her.

"Let's go. Stop dreaming and get off the carriage." She whispered. Her cheeks were red from embarrassment, there were still many people behind us waiting to get off. I looked around me, rose from my seat, and followed my sisters into the school yard. Liza left us almost abruptly. She was five years older than I was, and she had friends waiting for her near the school wall. I kept a firm grip on Cynthia's hand as she led me up the stairs and into the school. It smelt different; not right. Our house had always the smell of animals, of firewood, of pine; this school smelt oddly like pungent rags and heavy ink. I was forced to scrunch my nose once more.

Cynthia left me once one of the directors had taken my name. The woman, known as Miss. White, took me down the only hallway and stopped outside a door near then end. Miss. White had another little girl holding onto her other hand and we both went inside at the same time. All the children were new, I was not supposed to be afraid to be the one to stand out, but I was. I was sent to sit near the front of the room. There were still plenty of empty seats. Miss. White took a seat at the front desk and we all waited. I folded my arms neatly in front of me, like Daddy told me to. I kept my back straight, and my chin high. The little boy next to me watched me with incredulous eyes.

"Are you a rich girl?" He asked me. I looked at him.

"I am rich in spirit and imagination." I said back, looking to the front again. The boy laughed and then turned to the girl next to him and began talking to her. I frowned but didn't turn to look at him again. The rest of the class filled up quickly until it was full. Everyone was looking around themselves. Miss. White stood at the front of the class, a kind smile on her heart-shaped face.

"Hello boys and girls and welcome to your first day of school. You're going to learn plenty of things about writing and maths and…" It didn't take me, the small seven-year-old to loose focus on the teacher. She was very pretty and obviously very smart, but the sky outside the window deemed more pleasant than anything else. And that was were I sat until we were told it was time to play.

Outside, Cynthia found me and brought me to a tall tree near the fence. We sat down together and we shared my seeds and candy.

"Did you like it?" She asked me. I shrugged my shoulders. "Did the teacher read to you?" I nodded.

"I like it better when Daddy reads to me."

" Daddy's not going to be there forever, you know." Cynthia said. "You're going to have to say goodbye sometime."

"I still have lots of time." I said. We stopped talking for a while.

"Why are those children looking at you like so?" She asked. I turned and met they eyes of the little boy who sat in the chair next to mine all morning.

"I don't know." I bowed my head.

"What did you do, Mary?" She asked, her eyebrows coming together. She crossed her arms. I sighed and gave her a sheepish smile.

"I forgot to listen." I finished off my snack. "The teacher asked us to say what number we could count to, and I said ten thousand. She told me that no one can count that high; it is much too high for a child to count. I told her that I could and I started counting for her." I looked down again. "I didn't make it twenty before she sent me to stand in the corner."

I wasn't aware that Cynthia was laughing until I had finished. I slapped her hand, which shut her mouth quickly. "It will pass quickly." She let on. "You have to be what they want you to be. The teachers don't like it when you're smarter than them."

The days passed. Soon a week had already passed, and I still spent all my time with Cynthia. The other children in my classroom didn't want to be my friends. I was the quiet one, the one who liked to stare out the window then learn her letters. They didn't know that I could read already, write already, and just didn't care to learn it all again. I did like Miss. White. She was very kind to me when I chose not to question her. Instead, I found my place listening to everything I didn't know, and dreaming of waterfalls during the things I did.

One morning, the snow appeared again. It was dreary and enveloped the fields in sadness. The school was sad as well. Our free time was spent indoors now. Christmas was on its way, and the teachers had decorated the school with holly and spruce. I found it beautiful. We were sitting in one of the empty classrooms, Cynthia had brought a boy name Jeffery along, and we were playing cards under the desks. Jeffery was a nice boy, and he always smiled at me when we passed in the hallway. The card game was going well, I was winning. I had a knack of being able to guess the cards they were going to use next. Cynthia got irritated about it quickly and gave up, leaning against the wall.

"I wonder what Mother and Father got me for Christmas." She mused. I smiled and thought hard about what I wanted too. The image of a rocking chair came to mind. I laughed. That would be a nice gift. I looked at Cynthia and wondered….

"I bet you're going to get a new doll house." I said to her.

"How do you know?"

"I don't. I'm guessing." I said. My smile vanished though. I felt as if maybe I said too much. Cynthia just rolled her eyes. Jeffery turned to look at me.

"And what am I going to get? A new baseball bat?"

"No. A tennis racquet, because you're mother doesn't want you playing baseball anymore." We laughed together. Cynthia just watched. The bell rang for classes to resume. I left Cynthia and Jeffery to themselves.

Christmas did come, and with it came dreams. As I opened my gift, I knew what it was at first glance. It was my rocking chair. And as I watched Cynthia open her gift, I felt suddenly wary. If I was right it meant I was quite a good guesser. She opened her gift and appraised her new doll house. My jaw fell open, but I closed it quietly. She had a wicked smile on her face as she touched the smooth wooden house. And then her gaze fell on me.

"You knew!" She pointed at me accusingly. I looked at her with wide eyes. He fingers pointed at me. "Mother she told me what I was going to get! She ruined it for me!"

Mother looked down at me. "Did you know Cynthia's gift?" She asked, one hand on her belly. I bit my lip.

"I only guessed, Momma." I said.

"Did you guess your gift as well?" She asked, her eyebrows darting up. I nodded.

"And did you guess it right?"

I nodded again. "It was only a guess." My cheek began to blaze where she had just hit me. "You went and checked the presents!" She all but yelled.

"Mary snuck into the attic and checked the gifts!" Liza said, calling Father into the room. After finding out what had happened, father looked down at me. This was the one time in my life that I felt afraid of him. I swallowed hard.

"You will not receive Christmas Dinner. You will go to your room. Now." His voice was not raised, but he spoke with authority that scared me. I began to shake, and I curled into a ball, letting the darkness take me.

…

**Okay, so Chapter Two.. Is a Year later. I hope this story grabbed your attention and that you will come back for more.**


	2. Go to sleep, Mary

**AN: Here is chapter two. Enjoy and be merry. I promise you now that you're going to beg for chapter 3, because it contains a certain character.. we all know his badass name. Mwah hahaha.**

Chapter 2: Go to sleep, Mary

At nine years old, there is little that a child does not know about life. In general, a child can understand the difference between right and wrong. He or she is usually able to decipher the meaning of childhood, whether it be to play and meet friends, or to stay at home with themselves. At an early age, the ability of belief is permanent in one's mind. This belief in a high power, God, or just a belief in a parents love. It's the parents love that keeps a child happy. A child without love, can never reach its true potential, because he or she will always wonder what they could have had. If only they knew love. Love is never taught to a child. Instead it is born with them. Some may say that a new born babe has no idea of love, but there are others that swear against that. I would be one of them.

At birth, a baby will know the voice of his or her mother and father. And they feel affection for them-- More than that, they love them. Maybe even before they left the safety of their mother's womb. As children grow up and are not given that love back to them, their feelings may change. They may seek love from an outside source, say a church or another family member, but others just seek a place where they can belong. I never looked for anything, because my family loved me back, and I thought they always would. Especially my father. It's amazing how mistaken you can be sometimes.

The Christmas incident was forgotten quickly, and my father never raised a hard hand. It would seem as if things went back to normal, but in my innocence, I had a feeling that I was different. That school would change. That I wouldn't be able to control anything at all. I was the freak. There was proof of it.

The year did pass quickly. And with it came summer. I never earned any friends at school other than Cynthia, so it was a quiet summer. To begin with. There were many things do to in the city. We could go for walks in the many different parks, sometimes mother would come along if she was feeling well enough. She had almost died during childbirth. My brother was born a month too soon and a pound too big. My mother was unable to give birth to him naturally, so she had to have surgery at the hospital. She lost a lot of blood that night; she lost our brother too. She never named him. And after the first week of mourning, the entire world went on as if nothing happened. As if there never was a boy born into the Brandon family. My mother never mentioned him again, but I saw the sadness in her eyes. The sadness of losing a child. It got worse at the end of the summer.

I think my sister went crazy after the birth incident. She wasn't the same at all. And not for the better. Liza was never the perfect sister to me, but as a child I thought she loved me. She didn't love anyone that summer. I never knew what happened to her that made her this way; no one did. But that wasn't the problem. It was the consequences of how she felt that haunted me for many years after.

I still saw things, but no longer did I tell people. Not that they would listen anyway. I wanted to tell my father the truth. Would he believe me? If he did, what would he do to me? I wished and hoped he would, but something held me back. There did come a point that summer when I needed to tell someone.

At the end of August, my life went from guessing things and having them coincidently coming true to something completely and terrifically different. Something scary. I was sitting on the window seat of the attic, I still saw this place as safe back then, and watched from the window as Cynthia and Jeffery played in the bushes outside. I had been sick that morning and my mother had made me stay inside that day. In mere seconds, the sky turned grey and I could almost feel a chill in the air. It began to rain heavily, growing dark and murderous. I saw a light brighten up the doorway downstairs and then it went out. Liza, barely wearing a jacket in this cold walked across the back lawn and climbed over the fence. She disappeared into the trees.

I took in a long breath and blinked my eyes. Everything was gone. As quickly as the rain came, it had also vanished. It confused me that the weather would act so. And Cynthia and Jeffery were not even wet from the rain as they continued to play in the yard. I stood up and left the attic, climbing down the stairs. As I walked past Liza's bedroom, I stopped. I could hear her sniffles from outside the door. I turned the glass doorknob and pushed on the wooden door. It was black as black in there. A chill ran down my spine as I looked around.

"Liza?" I asked. The sniffles softened until they stopped. "Are you crying Liza?" I took a step into the room. There was little light in the hall, so it was hard for me to see what was going on in the room.

"Leave me alone." Liza whispered.

"Why?" I reached through the room until I could see the string hanging from the ceiling. I pulled on it, and the light bulb turned on engulfing the room in a hazy white light. Liza was in the corner with her black curls, the same as mine, pulled over her shoulders and curtaining her face. I looked down at her sleeves, she was covering her hands. I noticed how pale her face was from the tears that shone on her cheeks. "What's wrong, Liza?" I whispered. She looked up at me and frowned. Then I saw the kitchen knife hidden in her lap, half covered from a fold in her dress. My eyes darted back to her face. She was looking down at her hands. I followed her gaze. Slowly she pulled her arms straight out and let her palms point towards the ceiling. They were red. I knew it was blood.

"If you don't tell my secret, I'll keep one of yours." She whispered. I wanted to cry too, but instead I went and closed her door and came back to sit in front of her. I grabbed a wash cloth off her table and began wiping the blood off her hands.

"I know things." I whispered. She didn't look up at me, but she rolled her eyes.

"What kind of things?" She whispered back, playing along.

"Things that will happen."

"Like what you got for Christmas last year?" I didn't know if she believed me or if she was mocking me, but she was the only one I knew wouldn't tell anyone.

"Yes, like Christmas. I don't really see things, I just know when something is going to happen."

"How?"

"I don' know. I just do."

"Do you know what Cynthia is going to look like when she grows up?"

"I can't make myself know, I just do. It's hard, Liza. Should I tell Pap?"

"No. You can't tell anyone but me. And you have to keep my secret. Okay? We'll be special sisters."

"Okay." I finished with her hands and went to get bandages. She waited for me and I helped her. They would heal quickly. Mother and Father wouldn't notice. "Why do you do this?" I asked.

"I don't know. It makes me feel better."

"Why?"

"Because sometimes I get mad at the world. At this family, at myself."

"Will you tell Mother?"

"No one."

"Okay."

…

I didn't tell anyone, and I believed she told no one. So life went on as it was. We didn't become special sisters. In fact, Liza ignored me more than ever. I didn't take anything about that though. It was a week later as I was swinging on the tire in the back yard that I heard the thunder coming from somewhere far off.

"Mary, come inside before the rain comes." I heard my mother from inside. I pretended not to hear, scraping my freshly polished shoe on the ground beneath me. The sides of the tires were digging into my thigh, but I paid no mind. I knew mother would be angry that I had gotten dust all over my white church dress. I held the tire closer to my chest and let the wind slowly carry me back and forth. "Now, Mary." My mother was on the back steps now. I looked up and she motioned with her hand, an annoyed look on her face. I drudged up the stairs and past her. She sighed and began lightly beating my dress to free the dust. "What am I going to do with you."

I stopped at the entrance to the sitting room, but I couldn't see anything. Everything went black. I screamed and fell to my knees.

"Mary!?" I heard my mother and she was pulling me somewhere. But all I could see was Liza. In the rain, in the city, lying on the ground against a building. There was blood coming out of her mouth and eyes this time, pooling around her neck and across the cement. I sucked in a breath of air and everything went back into focus. I was in mother's lap as she sat on the sofa in the sitting room. She was looking down at me with worried eyes.

"Mother?" I whispered. She relaxed and hugged me close.

"You just passed out, darling. That's all. Don't cry."

"I dreamed while I was asleep."

"It's okay."

"What's wrong?" Liza's voice said from the doorway. I looked up at her and gasped. I pulled out of my mother's arms and hugged my sister. She returned the embrace.

"You're alive." I murmured into her dress as more tears fell down my cheeks.

"Obviously." She whispered back.

The rain came quickly, and with it came darkness. Usually when it rained I found comfort in the attic, and that was where I went. I sat with my eyes closed listening to the rain as it fell on the roof, to the thunder and lightning as it hit, and to the wind hitting the sidings of our house. Randomly, I looked down and saw the light appear downstairs. It disappeared and then I saw the figure of my sister run across the lawn. She was gone quickly. I knew I had to follow her. I stood up and ran into my sisters room, shaking her awake. She looked up at me and opened her blanket for me to crawl in.

"No. I need you to come out with me."

"Out? It's after bedtime, Mary. Go to sleep."

"No. Liza left. She's gone to kill herself." I began to shake her again as her eyes drooped. She mumbled something about it being just a dream. Then she rolled away. I moaned but knew waking her again was useless. I turned and quietly made my way across the front foyer. I could hear my parents talking by candle light in the kitchen. They didn't hear me as I grabbed my coat and walked onto the back porch. I opened the door and the wind blew my hair into my face. I held down a cough. And pushed myself into the rain. I didn't know if mother or father heard anything, so I quickly ran in the same direction in which Liza had walked not so long ago. I would follow her and stop her from doing whatever she had planned. I would save her.

****

AN: Sneak Peek for the next chapter on my site!. New readers can check out my site; the link is on my profile.


	3. A Disturbing Truth

-1AN: I think this chapter was much needed, but I have no idea if anyone is going to read it or not since its been so long since I updated. Don't hate me. Love me because Twilight is coming out tonight!

Chapter 3 -- A Disturbing Truth

_"Much Madness is divinest Sense -_

_To a discerning Eye -_

_Much sense - the starkest Madness -_

_'Tis the majority_

_In this, as all, prevail -_

_Assent - and you are sane -_

_Demur - you're straight away dangerous - _

_And handled with a chain -"_

_Emily Dickinson, circa. 1862_

So many words have been written by so many people on what it means to be insane. And there are so many different words used; insane, mad, crazy, lunatic… I heard many and all of these words when they took me away. But the only thing that set in as the motor car (finally I got to ride in one!) sped away from my house in the middle of the night: What will Momma do with only one daughter now?

I suppose you could say that I made a mistake that night by following my sister through the rain and to her death. But, it led me to so much, so now I disagree. Although I believed it myself when I was young. Because it was that night, that sudden change of events, that ultimately led me to my own death, or to my birth. It was just the time between I don't remember. Or I don't care to. So much pain, fear, and understanding. But we will get to that part soon. Now, it is time to enter that vault in my mind. From here on it is not going to be lovely or unabashed. This is the truth, this is what you want, and now you will know.

I climbed over the gate, my little black shoes slipping on the wood. I made it over and looked back carefully through the pouring rain. I could still see the shimmer of the candlelight from my parents through the kitchen window. A break of thunder pounded overhead and I looked up. Then I turned and ran after my sister. My nightdress was soaked through already, but I did not wrap my arms around myself.

I couldn't find her! But I just knew she had gone into town. Somewhere deep down inside me I knew that this wasn't going to end well. The image from before of Liza on the ground kept clouding up my mind. I wanted to see something else, anything else! But the thought of buildings led me into the city.

The trips to school, walking into town in order to catch the carriage, were usually short. But this time the entire walk was full of dread. I was scared, every noise in the dark making me jump.

Finally I made it to the city, I was shivering from the cold, my teeth chattering, my hair blowing around my face from the wind. I just walked. I had no idea where I was going. All I knew was the building in my mind and I hoped I was going in the right direction. Everything looked unfamiliar in the night time. I couldn't see anything at all besides what was illuminated slightly from the street lights. There were hardly any people around at all, all of them had gone inside to sleep or to hide from the rain. I could see my breath in front of me, coming out abnormally quick. And then I saw the building, big and scary; the bank. But she wasn't there. The only thing I could do was walk around the building into the alley. Why would she come here? What had been waiting for her that she needed to leave in the middle of the night to find it? I couldn't see anything at all, so I kept my fingers trailing along the rough wall. Just when I wondered when she would see me, a break lightning struck the sky, followed immediately by its thunder. I looked down and there she was, vanishing after only a few seconds. I fell to the ground beside her.

"Liza," I pressed my small, pale hands to her wet cheeks. They were no longer pink as I remembered. She was so white and cold and dead. There was not a bit of life left in her. "Liza.." I cried and touched my lips to her hair, pushing it away from her unseeing eyes. My fingers slid through something slick and warm. It was so dark, I couldn't see what it was. A flash of lightning struck across the sky and I saw the blood. It was all over my palms and up my arms. I looked again at Liza in the after effects of the lightning, her hair was thick like oil and her neck was half eaten. Blood all over the cobblestones. I couldn't contain it. I screamed. So loud. My hands began to shake, and I kept screaming, my voice mixed with the thunder. And then I saw him in my mind. A vision of myself where I was now, except I wasn't alone. A dark angel stood behind me, watching. My heartbeat picked up and I slowly stood on my feet, turning around to meet the stranger.

He was not beautiful, but the air around him was tense. No, not beautiful, but perfect all the same. His dirty hair was pushed back from his face, not combed back.

His eyes were black as coal, and the blood around his lips--that dripped from his chin-- was as black as my father's coffee, but red stained his white shirt. He smiled, his mouth turning up into a half grin that sent my heart into a frenzy. I was afraid. I had never been this afraid in my life.

"Hello." He murmured in a southern accent. "I'm sorry, let myself become a bit more presentable." He wiped his hands across his lips and then on his pants. It didn't help, only smearing the blood across his stone white skin. I sucked in a jagged breath, taking a small step back. I looked again at Liza's lifeless form on the ground, tears falling down my cheeks. He followed my gaze and then laughed. "Don't worry, Darling, for you I won't make it hurt at all. I promise." He tilted his head to the side. "Although I am curious to see if your scream is anything like your sister's. I bet it's even more…" He trailed off taking a whiff of the cool air around him. "You do smell good, love. The most delicious thing ever. Let's just get this over with, shall we?" He took an easy step towards me.

"Stop!" I yelled, my voice breaking. A child's voice. I took another step back, but he just came closer.

"She asked for it, begged for it, your sister here." He motioned his head to Liza, but I couldn't look. I couldn't move. I was frozen in place. His eyes met mine and held them. I couldn't run or scream if I wanted too. I started to sob. "She was so sad, she just wanted to feel a little bit of pain. I told her I wouldn't kill her… just a kiss. But then she began to beg. And, well, I never say no to a free meal." He chuckled.

"Liar." I breathed. He laughed again, sinister and cruel. No not an angel at all.

"Unfortunately for you, I tell the truth." He said in a bored voice, his eyes roamed over my body, lingering on my throat. He smiled again over another flash of lightning. "My my what big brown eyes you have…" He whispered, a little closer to me. I took a step back, but hit the side of the building. My palms scratched on the bricks. "My, my what beautiful long dark curls you have.." He was even closer; a few steps away. And then he took one giant step forward and reached out, grabbing my chin roughly in his hard hands. I whimpered, closing my eyes, preparing for my death. And then he tensed, followed by a low growl in the back of his throat. I kept my eyes tightly closed, not knowing what was happening. And then he was gone. I took in a deep breath ready to scream. I opened my eyes after hearing a crumbling noise as his body hit the wall on the other side of the small alleyway. Another streak of light and I saw who had saved me. She looked at me then, but only for a moment. The murderer got back up and flew at her. I screamed, but she had it under control. Her long blonde hair flew behind her as she threw him, again, into the wall.

"Run!" She yelled at me. "Get out of here!" I looked down at Liza, not knowing what to do. "Leave her! I said to go!" The beautiful angel, this one was an angel, growled at me, before returning her focus to the other one.

I ran. I had never run so fast in my life. I ran, and ran. I was screaming, and I couldn't even see anything around me until I was grabbed around the waist. I struggled, screaming into the person's chest. "It's okay, it's okay.." Someone's voice kept saying into my ear. "Someone get a policeman! It's okay.. It' s okay." But it wasn't. It really wasn't. I sobbed.


End file.
